No Words
by Lady Merlin
Summary: Hermione and Draco meet up after a long time, and remember an old love which Ron destroyed. It's never died out. There's no words which can describe it. Attraction: not a single word is said! one-shot


There's no one in town I know

_Knock knock_

Hermione opened the door. Whatever she had been expecting, this wasn't it. Disheveled, messed up, wet and covered in snow, Draco Malfoy stood at her door.

She let him in. Not a word passed between them. The whisper of old memories came alive. Old feelings, old hopes, old dreams. Pulling out old shirts from her closet, she passed them to Draco with a towel. The house was silent except for their breathing-it was peaceful now. There were no ghosts now that she wasn't alone.

She made him hot chocolate, which she knew he liked. He grasped it in his cold, cold hands and looked into her eyes. Chocolate forgotten, they rediscovered themselves in each others' eyes. His silver hair fell into his eyes, and she brushed it away, unable to stand not seeing his eyes of mercury.

This whole thing had been by chance. It was a complete accident. Harry and Ron had been distant. She'd confronted them, hoping for peace, quiet and minimum violence. She hadn't bothered to speak to Harry after she'd spoken to Ron

"_So, what you're basically saying is that you hate my face because I was with you through all of this, and that you'd have liked me better if I'd been a helpless bystander like Lavender and asked for you to save me? Is that what it is?" _

"_I don't hate your face," Ron said, tugging his collar. _

_Hermione ignored him. "You want to throw away seven years of friendship and love over this? Well you know what? I don't give a flying duck! Go ahead, Ronald Weasley, but know what you have done is horrible. Horrible. I never want to see you again. Get out of my house," and she literally threw him out. _

"_It's raining, you don't have to take it so hard! Please let me stay till the rain stops, he bleated pathetically outside on her porch. She ignored him and proceeded to make herself a cup of hot chocolate. _

Draco had been the only one who'd stuck with her, and they'd survived that depressing post-war period because of each other, because they drank each other like a drug. She supposed it had something to do with them having been devastating enemies and then realizing that everything was not what it seemed, and everything could change. She didn't really get it herself. It was something to do with him having already betrayed and been betrayed that made it okay to be around him, because he wouldn't do something like that. Or so she'd thought.

They'd fallen in love with each other. Hopeless and alone in the world, they'd clung to each other first for friendship and warmth, then for love. He'd shown her all the things they could do in the dark, and for the first time given more than she'd asked for. He'd taken it upon himself to take care of her and shelter her and defend her and in doing so, he'd saved himself. And they still loved each other to bits, but one day Draco somehow stumbled across the strange idea that loving her would somehow hurt her. He then proceeded to dump her.

He tried to explain, and the worst part was the she got it. If he'd left for another woman, or because he simply didn't like her, she could have hated him and gone on with her life. But he'd explained to her, slowly and carefully, like one does to a child, that he loved her with all the life left in his battle scarred soul, and that he wanted her beyond desire expressible in words and that he needed her to breathe because she was his blessed air and his water and his life, but. (We all knew it was coming) But, he knew that she was delicate (what?) and she deserved better than a traitor like him (What?) and that she should take care of herself better than to get mixed up in raffle like him (WHAT?) and that he loved her, but he would be leaving so he couldn't hurt her.

So for the second time in her life, Hermione died inside. Her life was worth living only because of his promise. Those words which haunted her sleep every night. _I love you, Hermione_.

A year later otherwise known as now, he was here, in her house, holding her hand in his cold fingers across the table. Wait. Where had that table come from? What was it doing there, in the most ridiculous spot? Damn those house-elves, she thought, conveniently forgetting that she had no house-elves. She went around it, never quite not touching him, never quite not looking into his eyes.

She remembered last month, when she'd met up with Harry, who was shocked when he'd heard what Ron had done. He hadn't been on that side, and Hermione was sorry for having thrown away that time, but not quite devastated. It had been a damn good trade-off. Draco Malfoy was her result.

Ron had turned up there and then, in the bar. He'd smiled and said that it was good to see both of them again. Harry was a little stiff. He was having difficulty accepting what his best friend had done.

Under the influence, Ron had said something about being happy that Malfoy was still staying away from her. It had flashed in her mind like a bleeding light-bulb. Ron had made Draco stay away. He'd somehow convinced him that he wasn't good enough for her. Hermione stood up and slapped him. Hard. Everyone in the bar turned to stare. Some ordered popcorn.

She'd demanded to know what he'd been expecting. What he'd wanted as a result of doing something like that. She couldn't understand it.

Until he said that he hoped she would love him. She felt like throwing up. Preferably on him. He'd gone a strange shade of mauve. She screamed that she hated him, nodded politely at Harry and apparated, leaving the two to clean up the mess.

That night, she'd written to Draco. She'd asked politely, she'd gotten angry, she'd broken down and cried, and the parchment showed it, splotched in ink in some places and in tears in others.

She'd even prayed, something which she hadn't done since early childhood. She'd hadn't resorted to this previously because she hoped he was getting on with his life, and didn't want to ruin it. Now she knew that there was no way in hell he would be happy, thinking that he wasn't good enough for her. Because she knew he loved her. She wanted him to love her. It was clearly a win/win situation, she tried to convince herself.

She didn't sleep that night, and god save the poor fool who crossed her path with Ron Weasley.

Now he was here. He was real and soft and warm on _her_ couch, holding _her _hand, watching _her_. He was all she'd ever wanted. He was right there, for the taking (an evil voice added)

No words. If he'd said something, maybe it wouldn't have been as perfect. But he didn't. He pulled her into his arms, and hugged her tight and didn't quite let her go. His arm was securely around her waist and his other hand was gripping hers like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

She sure as hell knew that his touch was the only thing holding her back from insanity. They sat there in the dark silence, like the past one year had never happened. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, fast and furious until his voice was hoarse, as if he was trying to make up for lost time. A whole year, which would never come back.

A horrible small voice piped up, _What if he's changed? What if?_

Unlike all the other times in her life when she'd listened to this particular voice, she squished it flat under an anvil in the corner of her mind. She knew that if she bothered with _what if's _she would never live her life the way she was supposed to.

Suddenly, the whole world stopped with his gasp. It had been dark and quiet, but it was the natural kind of quiet. Now, it was like her ears had been chopped off. She couldn't hear anything. She couldn't breathe. She tried to think what it was that her subconscious was reacting to. The muggle tape recorder in her head played back the only thing she was listening to; his voice.

_Will you marry me? _

That was the only thing her world was revolving around. It was like her heart was pounding to the rhythm of those words. It wasn't anything like she'd imagined. She'd dreamt as a child of being carried away on a pink pony by that black haired guy in Cinderella. Momentarily it had occurred to her that Cinderella wouldn't be very happy that her Prince was leaving with Hermione, but she didn't care. She'd dreamt of cute artistic young men, on one knee spouting poetry and carrying roses. This was nowhere near what she'd imagined. But honestly, she wouldn't have it any other way.

She nodded into the warm curve of his neck and as she felt the smooth abrasion of a scar, she felt tears leaking from her eyes. She wasn't entirely sure if they were of joy or of loss. He wiped them away and didn't question or comfort her. She felt that he felt the same way as her, and that he, in her place wouldn't want to be comforted. Comforting wouldn't take away the pain. It wouldn't make things alright. But they were together, and slowly time would heal them, together. He scrubbed at his eyes, and she didn't question.

Fingers curling under her chin, he looked at her and marveled at her beauty. Unable to help himself he kissed her, in some instinctive way trying to mark her, or label her as his. He hid her in a jealous guarding circle that night as they sat on the sofa.

The next morning, Ginny popped in to say hi (she'd heard the story from Harry and wanted to say sorry), and was stunned by the sight of Draco holding Hermione in his arms, asleep on his chest. He seemed intent on playing with her hair. He didn't even notice her there. She vanished.

By the time Harry had absorbed this, Draco had finished the formality of giving her the ring.

He arrived on the double, and demanded to know what Hermione was thinking, before realizing that he'd stepped in on something unbelievably personal. They weren't kissing or shagging or anything. They were just looking into each others' eyes. Harry knew, somehow, that they were perfect. He held her shoulder, and held Draco's, and they looked at him and smiled, accepting his blessing, and looked back at each other shutting him out.

He'd never seen love like this. No words could describe it. No words.

Well? Notices that no one spoke a single word, except in memories? Sorry about making Ron nasty. I never really liked him with Hermione. REVIEW!

Love

Lady Merlin


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